mother anarchy's children
by imemptyinsideithink
Summary: a lot of ancom angst, basically.
1. after the revolution

it was in retrospect that ancom realised que had been naive to expect anything good out of leftist unity. of course que had always been conscious of the fact that que and tankie had their differences. but que had been blinded by some sense of love or loyalty to the cause, and hadn't realised what should have been clear from the start. he had used quem. used quem only as a tool to strive for communism. he had never seen quem as a person. que should have noticed during all their fights that sometimes got violent. that usually got violent. que should have noticed by how he never even tried to use ques pronouns. que should have known when he had his way with quem, when he knew full well that que was too high to even process what was going on. que should have known after all the ridicule, after the insults, after the lying and the bruises. but que was willfully ignorant, too caught up in wishing everything would be fine once the revolution was over. tankie had promised quem that que would be spared, and that he would help quem set up an anarchy zone. and it sounded so good that que ignored the rest. que wanted to remain ignorant. so que dulled the pain of the bruises and the words with more drugs than que had ever thought que could handle before allying with tankie. que resorted to harder drugs. and when tankie noticed he would get angry again, and que would feel the consequences. and que would dull it again. it was a cycle.

then one day the revolution was over. and they had begun establishing their system. tankie woke ancom up with a smile on his face, something que rarely got to see all this time during the revolution. he told quem to get dressed and get in the car. he had a surprise for quem. ancom had to admit que had been excited. he took quem to an open field with grass and flowers as far as the eye could see. spring was in bloom. after years of nothing but fire, violence and black flags, it was a peaceful scene that que had almost forgotten even existed. and que thought que was about to cry at the sight. moments like that were why que had stuck with tankie through it all, aside from the politics. que needed moments like these to remind quem that tankie could still be kind. could still be as comforting and considerate and _kind_ as he had been when the two met and decided to start a revolution. a kindness que hadn't seen in months due to the stress of the final stages of the revolution.

"the flowers are beautiful." was all que could think to say. que was a little surprised at the sound of ques own voice. had it always been so raspy? or was all that drinking and smoking doing something to it. que didn't want to think about it.

"yes, ancom. just keep looking at the flowers." que heard tankie's thick accent from behind quem. something seemed off about the way he spoke, though. que couldn't help but notice. why didn't he call quem anarkiddie like he usually did? he hadn't called quem ancom for at least two years. the curiosity got the better of quem, and the instant after he had finished his sentence, ancom turned around and was faced with a barrel of a gun held to ques head. que froze.

"tankie, wh-"

"there is no place for anarchy in communist utopia. no place for drug addled tranny who can't fend for herself."

those words stung. no, they didn't just sting. they were like knives cutting through ques chest. even surgery wasn't this painful.

and que didn't know how to respond. que grabbed tankies hand, the one holding the gun, and turned it away from quem. que didn't say anything. que just ran. didn't take the car, just ran. in whichever direction got quem away from tankie the fastest.

it was eight months later, that que was being shoved out of some cheap motel room in the capital of ancapistan by a man twice the size of quem. his wife had returned early and caught the two if them, and que was being shoved out while they argued. it wasn't making ques headache any easier, but que had at least gotten what que wanted. just a couple of dollar bills. que hated looking at them. que still hated quemself for participating in this kind of thing. que didn't believe in money. que wanted to abolish money. yet here que stood, in some shady motel parking lot, clutching those little bits of paper like ques life depended on it.

ancapistan wasn't where que wanted to be, but it was the only place que could go. que needed to get as far away from tankie as que could. que couldn't go back there. tankie wanted quem dead. que couldn't go to nazi, que would be killed on sight for being a degenerate. not that que wanted to even if que could. nazi and tankie had both been insensitive at best, and downright violent at worst when it came to ques gender identity. ancap had been the only one to defend quem. ancapistan was the only place que had left to go. and while the capitalism all around quem made quem sick to ques stomach, at least it wasn't statist. que and ancap had their anarchy as a uniting force. but que still hadn't seen ancap around anywhere. eight months and que had no idea where he could be. which que wasn't too surprised about, if que had to be honest. ancap was a rich man. he wouldn't hang around the shady places that ancom was stuck with. not that que hadn't tried, oh no. que had tried to make ques way to the more fancy neighborhoods to go looking for him, but que quickly learned that everything was a minefield and que couldn't go anywhere without being told to get off someone's property with a gun to ques head. so que eventually stopped trying to look for him, and was trying to accept ques fate as a cheap homeless hooker desperate enough to do anything for ques next hit. constantly touching money and being driven by money made quem feel grosser than any sexual encounter que had, though. it felt immoral, like a violation of everything que stood for. and here que was engaging in what que hated most just to keep withdrawals away. though, que would be lying if que said the guilt of it all didn't make the heroin an even sweeter escape. que wouldn't have to bother with knowing who que was, for a while, at least. letting the world melt around quem made it easier to ignore the fear that que as an ideology wasn't meant to last. that que was losing quemself.

after a good five minutes of staring blankly ahead into nothing, just the cars driving by, que went to find a gas station. que just needed a bathroom. public bathrooms were nasty, but que didn't get to be picky. a quick glance in the mirror confirmed everything que didn't want to see. namely, quemself. que hated ques reflection these days. though, really the damage started back with tankie. ques hair was a mess. skin pale, accented with dark shadows. que was thinner than que had been in a long time. ques eyes were dead. that playful spark que always used to have was gone. for a brief second, que wondered if tankie had noticed that too. if that was why tankie had stopped being so warm to quem. for a second que wanted to tell quemself that was it. that it was ques fault that tankie turned on quem. that que deserved it. why should tankie care about some drug addicted tranny with nothing to live for? for a cheap hooker whose only selling point was looking like a boy but having a pussy. que counted quemself lucky for getting the most of ques transition done while with tankie. que had had top surgery, and a full hysterectomy. que had been on testosterone for years now. keeping up with ques hrt was a problem these days, though. que couldn't get healthcare in ancapistan. que didn't have that kind of money. but fortunately for quem, for the right price que could get almost anything if que knew who to ask. so diy it was for quem.

ques train of thought was lost when someone else walked into the bathrooms. que ripped ques eyes away from the mirror to finally get ques thoughts collected. then que left for some air.

some air and a cigarette. tankie would have hated quem if he'd seen quem now. everything he couldn't stand about quem had gotten so much worse. tankie. que wanted to slap quemself. why couldn't que just forget about tankie? que knew tankie had been nothing but bad for quem. que knew he wanted quem dead. and even though just that thought had quem shaking uncontrollably, there was a part of quem that wanted him back. que didn't understand why. que didn't want to want him back, but que did.

sometime during ques thoughts, que must have started walking. cause by the time que snapped out of it, que was long gone from the gas station. though, not that that mattered. there was another one of the same brand just across the street. que didn't want to think anymore. not when tankie was the only thing on ques mind. even after what he did, after what he called quem, after what he tried to do, he was still on ques mind. even 8 months later. so, que figured, it was time to use that money.

an hour later que was back on the street, trying to think of somewhere to shoot up. que had made a mental note of all the different places que was banned from, and by now the game was figuring out somewhere that wasn't on that list. most places charged to use the bathroom. except that one gas station que had been to earlier. granted, que figured, that was likely just the employees not caring enough to make people pay for it. besides, it was too far away for quem now. que needed somewhere close cause que needed it now.

as ancom's mind was being overworked, que had stopped paying attention to ques surroundings. and before que knew it-

"hey, watch it, junkie! you're gonna make my suit dirty! i just bought this!"

que had bumped into someone. and something was familiar about that voice.

"... ancap?" que spoke, weakly. their voice was even more tired and worn than it used to be. que thought it might be trembling.

the name seemed to ring a bell in the man's mind, as he looked at quem a little closer. que watched as he lowered his sunglasses, and his expression took a different shape. que could see the surprise in his eyes. and the concern.

"ancom? is that you?"

que nodded.

"yeah, i've been looking for you."

"what are you doing in ancapistan? weren't you and tankie leading a revolution?" the question seemed to be in good faith, but even then it hurt more to hear the man's name than to think it. ancap seemed to notice how que physically flinched at the mention of tankie.

"it's... complicated. hey, could i stay with you for the night? i'm sorry if that's a lot to ask. i- i can pay for a room or something!"

ancap lowered his sunglasses again. was ancom really saying que would pay him? ancom, the person who had managed to dodge and make excuses every time he would try to make quem pay rent during the centricide? the same ancom who he'd lived with for months during said centricide, and who never once paid for anything in all that time? it didn't seem right. he took a better look at quem. thin, pale, worn. it was painful to look at. this wasn't the ancom he knew.

"what happened to you?" was all that escaped him. his tone was soft. so soft that que could feel the concern. an uncommon emotion to get from ancap, que realised. but que didn't answer, and ancap didn't speak either. he just placed an arm around ancom's shoulders, noticing how que flinched away at the motion, and started leading quem back to his home. lord knows que needs it. whatever had happened during that revolution, ancap thought, it must not have ended well for his anarchists brethren. and certainly not for his favourite ancom.


	2. a home

ancap sat in his armchair. for once it was not fancy designer furniture. he had inherited it. from back before he became an ideology. it was one of the few things he'd kept from back then. if he had to be honest, he wasn't sure why he'd kept it. it didn't match the rest of his décor. didn't go with his aesthetic- that of a high maintenance party boy with a side of businessman chic. it plain and simple didn't fit. a relic from a different time and place. usually he didn't sit there. it was old and creaky and not particularly comfortable. but with the visit of an old friend, it felt appropriate.

he was nursing a hot cup of tea, laptop on his lap, sitting with his legs crossed. he was checking on how his main business was doing. a paperclip company. who would have guessed having a monopoly on an incredibly common office supply would pay off? he did. he had to pat himself on the back for that one.

while work was usually a great way for ancap to spend his precious time, today was different. with ancom sleeping in the guest room, he couldn't focus. he couldn't get over how small que looked when he had offered quem a bed and que had collapsed onto it immediately. how pale que had been despite always being outside. how que didn't have that spark in ques eyes that que always used to have. how que had offered him money. that might have been the strangest part. he'd seen quem fucked up and strung out a hundred times before. he had usually been right there with quem in the same state. but never once had he seen ancom pay for anything. much less pay _him_ for anything. he knew something was wrong. very wrong. and it had to have something to do with tankie.

ancap was at first torn between looking for news himself online, or waiting for ancom to explain for quemself. he wasn't sure how _he_ would feel if someone dug up all his dirt without even letting him get a word in. it wouldn't feel nice, he guessed. still, his curiosity got the better of him.

he went to check on news about the recent events regarding the revolution in the east. ancap wasn't so involved in selling weapons, so he hadn't been paying attention to it. turns out, he probably should have. a violent revolution that lead to a complete overthrow of the capitalist government that had been in place before. it had lasted years. and it struck ancap just how young ancom would have been when it started. during the centricide he never realised how much younger que was than the rest of them. que had became an ideology at 16 years old, and that was still recent memory for quem when they met. ancom couldn't have been more than 17 when the revolution began. the thought made ancap's stomach twist. what the fuck had tankie done to the kid?

he kept reading, intentionally starting with older articles then moving to more recent. he wanted the whole story. he found an article announcing that the leftists were banding together despite their differences to revolt. that one made his stomach churn for other reasons. he'd always told the kid to be careful with the authoritarian. he'd always told quem that the statists never had their best interests at heart. they were anarchists, they werent supposed to cooperate with those kinds of people. he kept telling quem. he wished que had listened.

the revolution was violent. he found video clips of it. both news coverage and just videos from people's cellphones. it grossed him out. he was never one opposed to violence if it was necessary, but he'd always been too much of a coward to see it through himself. the sight of burning buildings and people marching with red and black flags, the sounds of chanting and of gun shots. seeing the revolutionaries clash with riot police. he could have sworn he saw ancom in the midst of it all.

there were interviews. some even with tankie. it seemed he had been a kind of figure head during this whole thing. a leader. he couldn't stand to watch them, though. he couldn't stand looking at his face, just knowing he did _something_.

finally he dared click a recent article. one about the end of the revolution. they had begun rebuilding, he read. it was going okay, he thought. then he reached the part where tankie was having his most loyal men execute the ones who may oppose his totalitarian state. he saw black flags, ones who had been side by side with the red in the earlier footage, burned and discarded. he saw people lined up to a wall and shot. he thought he might throw up. he had barely even registered what he'd just seen, when he heard a creak.

he quickly closed the tab and looked over behind him to the staircase, where ancom was descending into the living room. que looked dazed. probably high. ancap didn't mind. que smiled weakly.

"look, bro, don't worry. i wasn't gonna look at whatever kinda fucked up porn you were watching." que said it with a lazy grin as que slumped down on the couch next to ancap's chair. one of several couches, really.

ancap expected ancom might lose ques shit once que's sober enough to be bothered by the extravagance of his home. that was not now, though.

"i wasn't looking at porn, for your information." ancap retorted, putting on a fake-offended tone of voice. the shit eating grin on his face was enough to give the offense away as fake. ancom seemed to mirror the grin.

"shit, then what were you doing?"

ancap wondered if he should tell quem. he wondered. but it seemed like his mouth made up its mind before he himself did.

"the revolution in the east. after seeing you i was curious how it went." he wanted to slap himself after mentioning that so casually. instead he settled for pinching the skin on his forearm hard. the pain almost distracted from how ancom's expression fell.

"well, what were they writing about?" is all que mumbled in response. ques mood had dropped. que didn't look upset, per say. ancap figured que was moreso just numb. he hated how hard it was to decipher ancom's emotions when que was high.

ancap figured it was too late to start lying now. he hated lying anyway.

"everything. they're executing our kind."

ancom looked away. que already knew this was going to happen. of course que did. ques biggest regret about running away was not taking ques fellow anarchists with quem. who knew, though. maybe becoming a capitalist pawn was worse than death, que figured. they at least died true to their cause. while que had just lost quemself.

"yeah, i know. that's why i ran."

"to ancapistan of all places?"

"where else could i go?"

ancap pondered that question for a second. they'd gotten rid of the centrists. there wasn't any apolitical or neutral place anymore. the east was taken by tankie. and que wouldn't live longer than a day in nazi's territory. he guessed que was right. que didn't have anywhere to go. that felt like another punch to the gut. he was going to have to stick by ques side. he was not prepared for that. he didn't expect this. but it didn't matter what he expected, really. he was going to have to act as an older brother figure.

by the time he snapped out of that realisation, ancom had nodded off to sleep on the couch. he made sure to get a blanket for quem.

que didn't wake up again until four hours later and by then que was already feeling like shit. que knew why. its not like it was a surprise. its that que needed to stay high damn near all the time to even function anymore. it felt like ques lunch, or lack thereof, was gonna make its way out again soon. ques head hurt, and ques hands shook noticeably.

ancap, who sat next to quem on the couch with a cup of tea, seemed to notice ques discomfort. he had a feeling he knew what was up, but he asked just in case.

"what's wrong? you sick?" cause despite being pretty sure what it was, he was concerned it might be a fever or something.

ancom flinched. que hadn't noticed him there. que couldn't remember a whole lot after getting here. que had been too exhausted at first, and then too high _and_ exhausted to process much of anything.

que looked at the tv. it was on. que didn't much care what was on- some boring 90's sitcom. but it was better than making eye contact.

"... withdrawal." que mumbled, almost too quiet for ancap to hear. but he did. and it didn't surprise him.

"i'd offer you something for that but i think i should get some food into you first. you look like skin and bones." he stood up, placing his mug down and walked to the kitchen.

"i also got you some actual hormones, i know that stuff is important for you. now, do you want chicken noodle soup or tomato soup?"

ancom nearly jumped when que heard a voice behind quem, only to look at see a speaker in the wall. it was ancap speaking to quem from the kitchen.

"uh, tomato soup is fine?" que answered quietly, a little confused. que tried to prepare quemself for the reply, but the speaker scared quem again.

"all right, i'll have a maid prepare that right away!" chimed the speaker, and about a minute later ancap returned.

"if you were just gonna have a maid do it why did you go to the kitchen yourself?"

"theatrics, dear child, a gentleman does his best to appear proper, even if he actually isn't. _especially_ if he actually isn't."

huh, ancom thought, so that's why he can't get a girlfriend. que rolled ques eyes.

"how much for it?" que asked quietly. ancap gave quem a look.

"for what?"

"the soup, the bed, the everything."

ancap had to pause. so last night wasn't a one-off, then.

"you know i was going to ask you about that."

"about what?"

"about you paying for things."

"what's so weird about it? i thought you were a capitalist."

"well, yeah, but you haven't paid for a damn thing in your life, what made you start now? besides, you're my guest."

ancom fell quiet at that. que hated thinking about what this country had done to quem.

"i've been living here for eight months, i wouldn't have survived if i kept refusing to use money. and drugs aren't fucking cheap, either. this country doesn't do mutual aid, what else was i suppose to do, ancap?!" que didn't realise que had been yelling until que saw the expression on ancap's face. his sunglasses had slid down his nose and he had leaned back. que felt bad already.

there was a silence between them, as ancom tried to calm quemself down, and ancap tried to process the situation. the tension was broken when the maid, a middle aged woman, who looked older than both of them, came in with the soup. she placed it down on the coffee table in front of ancom, gave quem a motherly smile, and left again. once the two were alone again, ancap cleared his throat.

"why didn't you come find me? i would have helped you. it scared the fuck out of me seeing you last night. i don't like the idea of you out there being some kind of crack whore-"

"don't call me that. i don't even do crack." ancom interrupted. ancap guessed that was reasonable, it hadn't been a very delicate phrasing. "i tried to find you, i just didn't know where you were. and everyone here is so protective of their property, i was afraid to go anywhere in case i got shot for stepping on someone's lawn."

ancap felt like he should have known that. but he was just so used to being the one with the gun that he didn't think how it could be a problem. he took another look at quem. que was still huddled under the blanket, spoon stirring around in the soup, like que didn't feel like eating anything. ancap couldn't look at quem like this. he sat down next to quem and placed an arm around ques shoulders, pulling quem towards him. at first que panicked. bad memories. but when que realised there was no danger, it was like que melted into the touch. que hadn't realised how much que missed human touch that was more than just sex for money. to feel cared for and warm. it felt safe, for once. que hadn't felt safe long before coming to ancapistan.

"you not hungry?"

ancom shook ques head.

"you need to eat something."

"but i feel sick."

ancap sighed.

"if you finish that soup i'll have your next fix ready for you when you're done, okay? i don't mind if you do drugs in my house, but i would prefer if you didn't starve."

that sounded fair to ancom.


	3. siblings

"do i really have to wear this?"

it was ancom who whined, looking down at the uncomfortably stiff suit that ancap had made quem wear. it was red, which que was okay with. red was familiar. but that was the only thing about it que was okay with. the main problem was that _it was a suit_ and que could tell it had _clearly been expensive_.

"i feel way too fucking bougie in this!" que continued, and ancap audibly sighed.

"that's the best way to look! you normally dress like a street rat, i can't be seen with you like that!"

"that's because i'm literally homeless, ancap."

"not as long as you stay with me, and if you're staying with me, you're wearing the suit."

at that ancom let out another whine.

"why are you doing this anyway?" que finally said after a few seconds of an awkward silence between them. que looked away from the suit in the mirror and at the older anarchist.

"doing what?" ancap asked, feigning confusion. ancom could see straight through it.

"the suit, the dolling me up, the everything!" there was an exasperation in ques tone.

"well, cause you said you wanted ice cream so we're going outside. didn't think your memory was that bad, we agreed to go out an hour ago!"

"i meant casually, ancap! i can't wear this! it goes against everything i stand for!"

"and you whoring yourself out for money for drugs isn't against what you stand for?"

ancom paused, and ancap could _feel_ the look que gave him. he hated it. ques gaunt features and tired eyes just stared at him, ques dry and cracked lips pressed together into a thin line. a huff came from ques lungs, ancap could tell it smelled like cigarette smoke. when he had taken ancom in three days ago, que had been an absolute wreck. and he had hoped that he could help quem get better, but he was realising that he genuinely didn't know how. he was a party boy and a thrill seeker, he'd done plenty of drugs in his lifetime. however, he could tell that ancom's case was more than just casual use at a party. ancom had a problem and he really didn't know how to breach the subject. and now here he was, realising that he somehow, despite his caution, managed to do it in the _worst_ way he could possibly think of.

"you know what, ancap?" ancap flinched when ancom's voice cracked. "you're right. it is, but its cause this country is ruining me. do you know what happens to ideologies when we go against our own values?" ancap wanted quem to yell at him. that would have been more manageable than the melancholic droning that came out of quem. "we change, ancap. fundamentally."

ancap swallowed what felt a golf ball stuck in his throat.

"ancom, i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to say it like that, please-"

"i can't wear this. i'm sorry."

and with that, ancom quickly took it off and threw it to the side, then hurried to the room ancap was letting quem borrow.

ancap called on a maid to get the clothes and went back to work. he figured it would be best to let ancom have some space.

...

it was several hours later that ancap checked in on his old friend. he had been hesitant to open the door at first. it had been so awfully quiet. he could feel his hand shaking as he reached for the door knob.

he stuck his head in. the lights were off, so he couldn't see much. so he bit his tongue and stepped inside. he flipped the light switch, and only then did ancom's small frame become apparent on the bed. que had seemingly nodded out while trying to read something. a quick glance informed ancap that it was 'the conquest of bread' by peter kropotkin. he sighed and sat down on the side of the bed. he gently shook ancom by the shoulder, causing quem to slowly stir awake.

"what are you reading?" ancap asked, hoping to just start conversation, even if he already knew what the book was.

it took quem a moment to react.

"its the bread book. i, uh, i wanted to be closer to my ideology. y'know... with everything that's going on. i don't wanna become somebody who's not me."

ancap had never really strayed from his values. he'd never had to. he could only vaguely imagine what kind of fear it must spark to be forced to. he placed an arm around ques shoulders.

"y'know, i always found theory pretty boring." ancap chimed quietly, a bit of a grin on his face.

"yeah, same. tankie would always bother me about it. act like he was so much better cause he'd read some dusty old books by a bunch of dusty, old, white guys." ancom let a bit of a snort slip. it made ancap relax some.

"i'm sorry about earlier. i shouldn't have said that." ancap finally let that slip. he reached over and placed a bookmark between the pages, then placed it on the nightstand. "i know you've got issues and i shouldn't have been so dismissive. i was acting like a statist earlier trying to make you wear some dumb suit. red never looked good on you, anyway."

ancom chuckled a bit.

"i thought red looked good on me. tankie always said it did."

ancap felt his heart sink.

"that's just cause he's a commie, you know how those types like him spend hours arguing about the right shades of red." ancap swallowed, not sure if he should say this next part, "i think he only liked it on you because it made him feel in control."

ancom looked ancap in the eyes. ques eyes looked so dead. so drained of the color that ancap had known from the centricide. when que would threaten the rest of the extremists if they deviated only a little from ques ideology. when que and nazi would constantly fight. he missed seeing that fire in ques eyes. it made him feel old and he wasn't much older than the other anarchist. it had only been a few years, but here he was, looking at what felt like a different person. this wasn't the ancom he had known from the centricide. this was broken person, who went against ques own beliefs to fuel an addiction, ques only escape from the things que had been through. the things that tankie had put quem through. it almost made his blood boil. ancom was so young, que shouldn't be living like this.

"you just think that because you only know him from the media. of course they're gonna show the bad parts... but he was okay most of the time. the revolution just stressed him out at the end." que was out of it, but spoke genuinely. it made ancap uncomfortable. how could que actually believe any of that? he wanted to yell at quem that none of that was healthy. but instead he just patted the other anarchist's head.

"what was he like, then?" he asked cautiously. ancom didn't pick up on the uncertainty in his tone.

que still had to pause for a moment before answering.

"he was... quiet. strong. made me feel warm."

another short pause.

"he would always wake up early. in the beginning he would drag me with him but after a while he couldn't be asked anymore. he made the best breakfast, even if we didn't have a lot. he was thrifty like that. and once we'd done our duties to the cause for the day, we'd come home. he would make dinner, and we'd put on a movie. either we watched movies from the soviet union, or, if we didn't, we would sit there and talk shit about everything going on on screen. i didn't really like the older movies, but he did. so i could tolerate them. then after, we would cuddle in bed until we fell asleep. those were the best kinds of days." ancom had this dissociative look on ques face. like que was looking into the void, and then past it. looking into a world so much better than the real one. ques gaze was still so vacant, though.

the phrasing had made ancap worry some. he was curious what the other days were like. those that weren't the best. but he wanted to ease into the subject. "i can imagine he was a bit of a control freak. you know how statists are."

"he was, kind of. but i got used to it."

"you seem to get used to a lot of things."

"i guess so. i have to be flexible to get by."

"how so?"

"there's nowhere for me to go."

again, it was hard for ancap to imagine. he'd been so used to having something like him. he'd been surrounded by capitalism all his life. it was a heavy realisation. that que didn't have any of the things that made up the groundwork for ques ideology. que had nothing. and que had been so close with tankie, but tankie turned on quem. and quem had looked to ancapistan, but ancapistan turned its back on quem as well. he grit his teeth.

"i dont... have a solution for you-"

"i dont expect you to." que interrupted.

"... but i can help you with specific things if you ask for them. i can give you this room, i can give you food, whatever you need." his voice was tinted by the heaviness in his heart. "i care about you, ancom."

que looked at him skeptically.

"what, so like, you're hitting on me? you in love?" it sounded like it was supposed to be teasing, but que was too out of it to make it sound anything other than flat.

ancap immediately became flustered. he really needed to develop communication skills fit for more than just business transactions.

"i dont love you!" that sounded bad, "... or well, i do. but not in a _'i wanna date you'_ kind of way. not even a _'i wanna fuck you'_ kind of way. in a _'i care about you a lot and i dont want anything bad to happen to you because i feel responsible for you now'_ kind of way. You're not a potential partner. romantic or business wise, you're like... i feel like im your older brother and i need to care for you because nobody ever taught you how care for yourself. and that's not an insult, that's just saying it how it is. you need help. i want to help you because it hurts seeing someone i view as family in this situation. you're the annoying little sibling i never had and i dont wanna lose you. i dont wanna see you like this." he paused. he had ended up rambling a lot more than he intended to. "i can try to help you. but only if you want help. i can't force you to do anything, or i'd be no better than those statists, but i... i guess i just want you to know that i'm here for you. i'll be your big bro."

siblings? that didn't sound too bad. "... i appreciate that. i guess i wouldn't mind a big brother," ancom was still pretty out of it, but ques high was fading. "but im not sure if im ready to get help yet."

ancap nodded, patting ques head gently. "that's okay." he felt concerned about his friend. this kid, yeah, kid, who didn't deserve to be like this. he never liked communists much. but he could recognise a fellow anarchist in need. "... just say so whenever you think you're ready. i'll be there to help. until then, stay here. free of charge. its safe for you here. we can just hang out and party. it'll be like the centricide! except with no statists breathing down our necks!" he hoped to brighten the mood some, and by the sloppy, lopsided smile on ques face, it seemed to have worked a bit. ancom's little chuckle confirmed it.

ancap got up and walked to the door. "get a good night of rest. i'll be in my office if you need anything. it's the big door with the gold plaque down the hall to the left." he smirked, adjusting his tie. "real gold." he couldn't help but brag.

ancom just let out a snort. "dude, you're so bougie. but... goodnight bro."

he appreciated the sentiment. "goodnight, kid."


End file.
